Wishful Thinking (14 page)

Hazel ran her hands over the cool material as it skimmed over her hips. She held her arms out and spun around. “What do you think?”

Jaime’s face brightened, and for the first time since Hazel had known her, she actually smiled. “You look like a fairy freakin’ princess,” she said, and kicked the closet door closed, revealing the full-length mirror hanging on the wall behind it.

The dress was just as stunning as Hazel remembered, and even more so now that she had the perfect excuse to wear it. The rose-colored silk was elegant, yet summery; it was just the right dress for an outdoor party. It was almost as if Posey had seen into the future—or the past—and designed it specifically with the yacht club event in mind.

“I can’t believe you’re going to waste it on Luke,” Jaime joked. “I’ve told you he sucked his thumb ‘til he was seven, right?”

Hazel laughed, lifting the hem of the dress to tuck her feet into a pair of Rosanna’s sandals. There, in exactly the same spot as it had been on the first dress, was the small, embroidered butterfly.

“What’s that?” Jaime asked, folding forward to get a closer look. Hazel quickly let the skirt fall and held the material close to her side.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a tag.”

Jaime pushed back on her bed and settled in the nook where the two walls met, crossing her legs and falling back into her pile of pillows.

Hazel spun around again, admiring her dress in the mirror. She couldn’t stop thinking about the wish. When would she make it? What would she say? She only had two wishes left; she couldn’t afford to screw this one up.

Jaime reached over toward the nightstand between the two twin beds. She lifted a plastic-covered book from a lopsided pile and flipped it open in her lap. It was one of the pregnancy manuals Hazel had checked out of the library the day before. Hazel’s heart stuck as she remembered standing in line, wanting to shrink or disappear, and feeling like a total degenerate. The librarian had looked up quickly with a puckered little smile, and Hazel could feel herself being judged.

Poor Jaime,
Hazel thought. For Hazel, the judgment had only lasted two minutes. Jaime would get it for another nine months, and possibly a whole lot longer than that.

There had to be a way that Hazel could make things better. There had to be something that would make Jaime happy. Maybe even something that would make her excited about having her baby and staying on the island to raise it herself.

An idea hit Hazel, fast and fully formed, and she glanced quickly through the closet. She pushed aside the garment bag, revealing Jaime’s one sundress and snapping it free of the hanger.

“Come on,” she said suddenly, tossing the white dress over Jaime’s outstretched legs. “We don’t have much time, and you still need to shower.”

“What?” Jaime mumbled, not looking up from her book. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re coming with us. I don’t have time to argue,” Hazel said with such force that she could hardly recognize her own voice. “And you smell like donkey. Go. Shower. Now.”

“Oysters 101,” Luke announced. “Watch and learn.”

Luke, Hazel, and Jaime were stationed at the long buffet on the yacht club porch. The clubhouse, an old, square building that overlooked the Edgartown harbor, was lit up by red, white, and blue blinking lights, and the sprawling balcony was dotted with flags and looped with patriotic bunting.

The crowd was a sea of seersucker suits and frilly party dresses, the women lightly pecking each other on powdered cheeks, the men swirling highballs and patting each other heartily on the back. Inside, the walls were hung with black-and-white photographs, formal shots featuring boats and boaters of generations past. Hazel looked around the balcony and sighed. She couldn’t help but think that Jaime had been right about the snob factor.

But she’d definitely been wrong about the food. The buffet was stocked, and hardly ignored. Guests helped themselves to
plate after plate of the beautiful fruit salads, fresh greens, and steaming ears of corn on the cob. And, at the far end, there was a raw bar, an endless display of steamers, oysters, and clams, all shucked and arrayed between lemon wedges and small bowls of dipping sauce.

Luke selected two oysters and passed the smaller one to Hazel.

“Sorry, Jaime,” he said, as she filled her plate with grilled chicken and salad. “No raw shellfish for you.”

Jaime shrugged and poured herself a glass of sparkling apple cider. “Being pregnant is a blast,” she sighed, eyeing their glasses of stolen champagne.

“Okay,” Luke said, dotting their oysters with a squeeze of lemon juice, and a healthy dollop of red cocktail sauce. “Here we go.”

In one quick motion, he tipped back his head, held the shell up to his lips, and sucked back his oyster in one slurpy gulp.

“So simple, so good,” he sighed with a sly smile. “Your turn.”

It was a challenge. Hazel looked carefully at Jaime, who urged her on with a wiggle of her thick, dark eyebrows. Hazel was still stuck on the
raw
part, not to mention the slippery way the creature was lolling around in its knobby shell. But she knew Jaime and Luke wouldn’t leave her alone until she’d at least tried one.

She closed her eyes and rested the edge of the shell on her lower lip, angling the oyster into her open mouth. It was cool and wet on her tongue, at first giving her a jolt, but as it slid down her throat, it left behind a salty, fresh aftertaste, and she was surprised to find that she almost enjoyed it.

“What do you think?” Jaime asked.

Hazel smiled. “Not bad,” she said with a casual shrug, as if she swallowed living things every day. “It tastes like the ocean.”

“That’s my girl,” Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Hazel took a small sip of her champagne as they started down the porch steps and onto the club’s private beach. A dance floor had been roped off in the sand, and a four-piece brass band was playing on a makeshift stage by the entrance. Luke waved hello to somebody he knew from work, and Jaime was caught in a laughably awkward conversation with one of the caterers, a stoner guy she knew from school. It was the perfect chance for Hazel to excuse herself.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Luke, and made her way back to the clubhouse, as if in search of the bathroom. But at the last minute, she ducked around the porch, making sure she couldn’t be seen from the dance floor.

Hazel leaned against the railing, the crinkling paper streamers sticking to the side of her dress. Her heart skipped. She knew this wish was risky. It could go a million ways. Or maybe it wouldn’t even work at all. But she had to give it a chance. If she did nothing, Jaime was definitely going to go back with Rosanna to San Francisco, where she would have her baby and then give it up.

And Hazel’s life would be exactly the same.

Hazel squeezed her eyes shut. The wind tickled her face; the air smelled like ocean and charcoal smoke from the grill. She gripped the railing and took a deep breath.

“I wish,” she whispered quietly. “I wish my father was here. Right. Now.”

Hazel snapped her eyes open and looked down at the hem of her skirt. All of a sudden, she felt a familiar fluttering and watched as the tiny, golden butterfly flapped its delicate wings, floating away from the dress and into the sky.

The butterfly hung in the air for a moment, as if to orient itself in new and unfamiliar surroundings, before zipping off and flying between two wooden beams on the porch. Hazel hurried down the balcony steps and onto the beach, following the glowing light as it skirted along the water.

She walked slowly between the small groups of partygoers, their pointy high heels sinking them deeper into the thick sand. She followed the butterfly’s path overhead, until it paused at one of the yacht club’s long, wooden piers. On the other end of the dock, Hazel could see the hunched-over shapes of Jaime and Luke, sitting with their feet in the water. Luke had sneaked a bottle of champagne and was holding it on his lap as they looked up at the stars.

The butterfly was leading her back to them.

Hazel’s teeth were clenched so tightly her jaw was starting to ache. She took another step toward the dock but stopped when she felt something—or someone—brush against her arm.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice uttered politely, before continuing past her and heading for the dock. He was a tall young man in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and he was making his way to the end of the pier.

Hazel looked up and saw that the butterfly had swooped down and was flapping its wings with greater intensity directly over the boy’s head. It traced a quick figure eight in the sky before striking out across the water and disappearing into the last of the orange sunset clouds, hovering at the horizon.

“I
’m sorry, but I’m going to have to confiscate that bottle.”

The boy stood at the end of the dock with his arms crossed, speaking in a phony, official-sounding voice. Hazel had followed him quietly, her heart thudding in her ears.

Luke turned first, glancing sheepishly at the stolen champagne on the deck, before a look of surprise scrambled his face.

“Reid?” he stuttered, and Jaime whipped around, leaping up and knocking over the glass of cider by her feet. Her eyes were glowing as she hurled herself into the boy’s outstretched arms.

“Reid!” she squealed, her tiny arms squeezing around the back of his neck. “What are you doing here?”

Hazel felt warm from head to toe, watching her parents hug. This was her mother. This was her father. They were together.
He’d come back.

Jaime unpeeled herself from Reid’s embrace, her face reddening as she remembered they weren’t alone. She glanced over Reid’s shoulders and caught Hazel’s eye. “This is Hazel,”
she said, gesturing quickly behind the boy’s back. “She works with us at Rosanna’s.”

The boy turned and reached out a hand. For the first time, Hazel got a good look at him. He was tall and thin, with a long nose and strong jaw. His eyes were light blue and his hair a dark auburn.

In other words, they could have been twins.

“Hi,” Hazel stammered, reaching out her palm and feeling Reid’s fingers wrap around hers. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Reid smiled. “You, too,” he said. “I’m sure Jaime’s told you all kinds of horrible things about me. It’s why I came back, actually. To defend myself.”

Jaime punched him lightly on the shoulder, as Reid and Luke high-fived over her head. “I thought you were out of here for good,” Luke said.

“I thought so, too.” Reid shrugged, letting a hand slip around Jaime’s waist and pulling her back in to his side. “I made it through the first session, but it got too hard to stay away.”

Jaime rolled her eyes and bumped him playfully with her hip, but her face was glowing. Hazel caught her eye and smiled.

The boys chattered on about their summer plans, their voices blurring as Hazel stared at her father. Reid. She’d never known anybody named Reid before. It sounded important, like the everyday alter ego of a superhero. Her father, the superhero.

She could get used to that.

From the beach, the brassy sounds of the band wafted in their direction. An announcement was being made, and Luke glanced up.

“The fireworks should be starting soon,” he said, reaching for Hazel’s hand. “And I was promised a dance.”

Luke led Hazel off the dock with a knowing wink. Reid yelled something about meeting up with them later, and Hazel turned and watched as he and Jaime got smaller in the distance. They were sitting at the edge of the dock, Jaime with her head on Reid’s shoulder. Even from far away, she already looked like a different person. She looked unmistakably happy.

When they reached the sandy dance floor, Luke spun Hazel out and pulled her back in. Her dress swished around her ankles and she felt the strong warmth of his hands on her back.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Luke whispered. The band was playing something up-tempo and festive, but they were still slow dancing, and Hazel didn’t care.

“Only like seventeen times in the car,” Hazel laughed. She glanced out again over Luke’s shoulder toward the dock. She wasn’t sure which was more startling. The fact that her parents, her actual parents, were snuggling up together, less than a hundred yards away, or the fact that a boy she liked had said she looked beautiful. Seventeen times.

“I was starting to think Jaime was never going to come out of that funk,” Luke said, following Hazel’s gaze. Reid and Jaime were dancing now, swaying under a sky full of prickly stars. Reid was hunched over, his knees bent and his long arms wrapped around Jaime’s small waist.

“Reid seems nice,” Hazel said. “Have you known him long?”

Luke shrugged and spun her around again. “Not really,” he said. “His parents are members here. I used to think he was just another stuck-up summer kid. But Jaime seems to really like him. And she’s not exactly easy to please.…”

“Yeah,” Hazel laughed. “I’ve noticed.”

Luke laughed and spun Hazel out a few more times, their
bodies settling into the comfortable rhythm of moving so close together. She couldn’t believe how easy it was, letting herself relax in his arms.